Blood Red Kiss
by kathiann
Summary: Post ep to Bloodshot. This is a what if. I started to think, what if the Janitor hadn't come into the bathroom at the end of the scene with Van Pelt and Rigsby. This was going to be a fluffy one shot, but that's not how it ended up. Will be two parts.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **This is one of two post ep fics that came to me after Tuesdays episode "Bloodshot". This one is all Rigsby/Van Pelt, and will proabably be a two parter, only because it just wouldn't end in my mind. Any way, Thanks to Ebony 10 for being my beta.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned them, the janitor would not have come into the bathroom.

It was all her fault. If something happened to Rigsby she would never be able to forgive herself. If she hadn't been dating that, that—she wasn't even sure what to call him. He had tried to kill her. He had really wanted to kill Jane. Jane, the idiot. But she couldn't think of that now. She had to find Rigsby.

Where would he have gone to talk in private with another guy? He wouldn't have gone into one of the interrogation rooms. No, that would be too obvious. They had walked down the hall…the bathroom! He must have gone into the bathroom.

She rushed into the bathroom and saw the medic had just finished up with him. "Oh you're alive, are you ok?" She knew she was speaking barely above a whisper, but that's all she could manage. He was hurt pretty bad and it was all her fault.

"I'm fine." He managed to get out. He leaned one arm against the wall. He didn't want her to see how unsteady he was. She rushed up to him and put her arms around him holding him closely.

"I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry." She knew nothing she could say would make up for the pain he was in, the pain that she had caused. Why couldn't she have just listened to Jane? To hell with them working together.

"It's alright. It's alright." He whispered it in her ear. She pulled pack slightly. He looked at her and she knew it was going to happen. She loved him, really, just like Jane said. There was no reason to not kiss him right now.

In the split second it took her to form the thought she felt his lips on hers and in the next instant it was all fading away—the guilt that she had almost gotten Jane and Rigsby killed, the pain from the minor whiplash—the kiss was all she could feel. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and was going to deepen the kiss when she felt something moist on her fingers and it all came crashing back to earth.

He was hurt and it was her fault again. Every time she got close to someone they always got hurt. She pulled away, "I have to go."

"What? Grace, what's wrong?" She just shook her head. It wasn't his fault. She reached her hand up to her lips. They still tingled from his touch.

"I have to go." She said again and backed toward the door. Rigsby looked at her. He couldn't understand the look on her face. It wasn't regret but something close.

"I didn't mean…Grace, don't go." He tried to go after her but he was still a little unsteady, made worse by the electrifying kiss that they had just shared. He was powerless to stop her as she quickly left the bathroom. Rigsby stared at the door for a minute before sagging against the wall. He never understood women. He needed to talk to Jane.

"Damn you, Jane, you always ruin everything." Van Pelt almost yelled at him as she came into the bullpen to grab her things. She couldn't stay any longer. There was no way she could see Rigsby again tonight. He would ask what was wrong and she wouldn't be able to tell him. Why did Jane have to do his stupid mind reading thing and make her think about the past?

"What did I do?" Jane asked with a mild note of amusement in his voice. He had thought she would be happy about kissing Rigsby. This was not the reaction he had expected. He heard her desk drawer slam and a scraping as Van Pelt picked up her bag from where she had it under her desk.

"Nothing, Jane. That's the problem." She stomped off leaving him wondering what he had done. A few seconds later he heard another set of footsteps coming from the same direction.

"Jane," Rigsby said impatiently, "Did you see Gra—I mean, Van Pelt come this way?"

Jane gestured to his eyes "Blind, couldn't see anything."

"Sorry, I mean did you hear her come this way?" His impatience was growing.

"Yes, she did, but I wouldn't go after her right now. I think she needs to be alone." He was leaning back against his sofa thinking about lying down, but he wanted to wait for Rigsby to leave first.

"Hey, I have a question." Rigsby said, coming closer. "What is it with women?"

"She kissed you, huh?" Jane smirked. It was about time, but that still didn't answer the question about what was wrong with Van Pelt.

"Yeah, she kissed me. It was amazing. It was like no kiss I've ever had before. But then, it was like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over her head." Rigsby was sitting on the edge of the desk closest to the sofa. Jane could smell his blood and sweat.

"So, what's the question?" Jane knew what he was going to ask, but was going to make him ask it any way.

"Why did she stop? I mean, I know we work together, but I would never do anything to hurt her. I love her. Doesn't she trust me?" He seemed genuinely confused and upset.

"I don't know for sure. I can make a guess, but it could be wrong." Jane didn't want to get his hopes up. He had been wrong before and would be wrong again, but these were his friends and he didn't want to hurt them.

"That's ok. I just need something, anything, to go by." He was desperate. They had been there and she had pushed him away. He wanted to know why.

Jane sighed, "She's deeply repressed and emotionally shut down because of a trauma in her past that she has never spoken of to anyone or admitted, even to herself."

"What's that supposed to mean? What kind of trauma? Was she hurt? Was it an accident?" Rigsby was standing now and pacing in front of the sofa.

"I'm not actually psychic. It's just a guess. You'll have to figure it out on your own." Jane finally decided that waiting for Rigsby to leave was going to take too long and so he lay down on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, right. I have paper work to fill out." Rigsby slowly shuffled over to his desk. His head hurt and he was exhausted. He just wanted to fill the paperwork out and go home. He sat at his desk for a few minutes trying to concentrate, but found he kept going back to what Jane had said. What kind of trauma would cause Grace to shut down like that? He sat there for a few more minutes trying to concentrate on filling out the forms he was going to need to get CBI to pay for his injury. Finally he gave up, throwing his pencil across the desk.

He looked over at Jane and noticed that he seemed to be sleeping. That was not unusual though. He always looked like he was sleeping. Rigsby stood up and grabbed his keys out of the top drawer of his desk. He was just going to go home and forget about everything. Maybe he could focus better in the morning.

He walked out into the cool night air and, while it was a relief, it did cause him to stumble a little. "Should you be driving in your condition?"

Rigsby looked around and quickly identified the voice as that of Van Pelt. "I thought you were going home." He walked over to where she was leaning agents to wall of the building. He leaned against the wall next to her. The brick felt cool against his back.

"I forgot that my car was practically totaled. I don't blame Lisbon for not letting him drive, although I suppose that he can usually see."

"What was Jane doing driving?" Rigsby asked slightly amused at the thought of a blind Jane driving Van Pelt's car.

"We were trying to get away from that psycho, Don. He had me handcuffed so I couldn't drive. It was Jane driving or him getting a shot through the head. Thank God Lisbon came when she did. I don't know what would have happened."

Rigsby realized for the first time that night how close he had come to loosing Van Pelt. He didn't know what he would do if he had lost her. Quietly he said "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

"It's ok, you couldn't have known. I should have known his interest in me wasn't real. I feel like such an idiot." She could feel the tears she had been holding back start to well up in her eyes. Rigsby reached over and grabbed her hand.

"Any guy would be lucky to have you." They stood that way for a few minutes, neither wanting to move. "You want to go home?" he asked at last.

"Are you offering to drive? Because I've already almost died twice tonight. I'd rather not go through it again."

Rigsby chuckled slightly, "No, how about you drive? You can drop me off then take my car home for the night. You just have to promise to pick me up in the morning."

"I can do that." She pushed herself off the wall and put her hand out for Rigsby's keys. "Come on, let's get you home."


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** Wow, I can't believe the reviews I got for this one. This turned out longer and has more angst than origanaly intended, just as a warning. Thanks to every one who reviewed, and to Ebony 10 for being my beta. Recommenced snack for fic reading today-Starburst Jelly beans, HTey have a new mix that is only red fruits, I thought it was apropreate.

**Disclamer: **If they were mine, I would not have to write this, it would have happened this way in the show :)

They were sitting in his car, driving. Rigsby was trying to figure out a way to broach the subject of her past as Jane had mentioned it. He still wasn't sure how to do it when they pulled up outside of his apartment building.

"Do you want to come up for a few minutes?" He asked as she put the car in park. He struggled to open the door to his car and finally gave up, just sitting there waiting for her answer.

"Why don't I help you make it up the stairs? I don't want you falling down and getting another bump on your head. I don't think I could—I mean, _you_ could handle it tonight." Grace said after observing his failed attempt to get out of the car.

She opened his door for him and walked behind him as he slowly made his way up the stairs to his apartment. "You would have to live on the second floor, wouldn't you?" She asked as she placed her hand on his back to help guide him up the stairs. He was not a light man and the further they went the more support she was giving him. "Maybe you should work out more. I think you're getting a little round around the middle."

Rigsby chuckled slightly. They finally made it to his door and Rigsby opened it. "Come on in." He stumbled in and slumped against the back of the sofa. "Do you want anything? Something to drink?"

"Sit down, Rigsby. Let me get something," Van Pelt said, walking in the direction of what she assumed was the kitchen. Rigsby nodded and walked around to the front of the sofa, sitting down slowly. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the sofa.

"Here you go." He jumped a little when she sat down beside him. She held out a glass of water and a couple of pain killers.

"Thanks." He swallowed the pills and leaned back against the sofa again. "Jane told me something tonight."

"Really?" She leaned her head back against the sofa like he had his. "What did he tell you?" Jane's insights were usually humorous. Not always, like his with her tonight, but sometimes.

"It was about you actually. Don't worry. I asked him. He didn't want to tell me." He still had his eyes closed, but Van Pelt had straightened and was now looking at him. Jane wouldn't have told him about a tragedy in her past, would he? Wait, what was she thinking? It was Jane. Of course he would.

"What did he tell you?" The tone of her voice made him open his eyes and look at her. He was afraid to tell her everything that Jane had said now.

"I asked him about women in general. You know, why they can kiss you like there's no tomorrow and then just leave. It doesn't matter what he said exactly, but he said that I needed to figure it out on my own. But my head hurts too much for that right now."

Van Pelt stood up. She needed to leave before he got to the part where he asked her why she was so distant with him. "Good night, Rigsby. I'll see you in the morning when I come to pick you up for work, ok?"

Rigsby nodded without opening his eyes. She had her hand on the knob of the door when Rigsby called out to her. "Grace." She stopped and turned around. "You know that if you ever need someon to talk to I'm available, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Good night."

Van Pelt slowly drove to her house. She hadn't meant to kiss Rigsby, hadn't meant for it to be absolutely amazing. She knew she owed Rigsby an explanation, but wasn't sure what she could say to him. Jane had been right. She was emotionally distant. She had her reasons. They were good ones. Well, that's what she told herself. She pulled up in front of her apartment and sat there for a few minutes, thinking. She really liked him. She didn't think she could say love. She just wasn't ready for that. Without thinking she started his car again and headed back to his apartment.

She didn't knock when she got there and wasn't surprised when she found the door still unlocked. She went in quietly in case he was already asleep. She saw him still sitting on the sofa where she had left him. She walked over and sat down next to him. He was asleep. She gently shook his shoulder. "Rigsby. Wayne. Wake up. I want to talk to you." She was talking quietly, but he still jumped slightly before he opened his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's ok." He straightened up slightly and rubbed his eyes. "What did you need?"

She looked at him and hesitated. "I thought I should offer you an explanation for tonight. I know you were confused. I mean, you did ask Jane for advice."

"He gives good advice. One of these days I should listen to him." He laughed nervously. "You don't owe me an explanation. Jane said something else aside from the fact that I need to figure you out on my own. And I don't want you to tell me anything you're not ready for."

She gave him a sad smile. "I know you like me and I like you, too. That much should have been obvious tonight. But I want to let you know who I am before you get in to deep. I don't want to disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me." He sat up a lighter straighter on the sofa and reached over, taking her hand. "I would care about you no matter what."

"I've always had bad taste in guys. Well, maybe not always." She started.

"Grace," Rigsby said, trying to interrupt her.

"No, just let me finish. My dad was the head football coach at my high school. My town was really into football and I was pretty much destined to date the star quarterback. I was the lead cheerleader. Life was great. You know sometimes I'm glad that Jane can't read minds. I would hate for him to have this ammunition. He would use it for evil. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, he would. He likes to do that." Rigsby agreed.

Van Pelt continued without acknowledging his comment. "Things were going great until my senior year. My boyfriend was in line for a full ride scholarship to the top football school of his choice and I was accepted into by dream school. I wanted to be an elementary school teacher—cliché, I know. Then I got pregnant. The world seemed to end. Both our parents were furious. They didn't even know we were having sex. His parents wanted me to get an abortion and my parents, being so religious, wanted us to get married. We didn't know what to do. We were so young." She took a deep breath and looked at Rigsby again as if afraid he was going to judge her. "We got into a big fight with our parents and decided to go party. We were both drinking and it was raining. Neither of us was thinking when we got into the car. I don't even remember the accident. The doctors said I was lucky to be alive, but my boyfriend wasn't so lucky. I lost the baby and wasn't even out of the hospital in time to go to his funeral. His parents wouldn't speak to me. I was the outcast of the school. The second I graduated, I left and I haven't been back since."

Rigsby was quiet for a minute, trying to process all that she had said. A thought occurred to him. "Why was everyone mad at you?"

Quietly, almost as if she didn't want to say anything she whispered, "I was the one driving. I wasn't supposed to be drinking that night. I was pregnant after all. I was the smart one—the 4.0 GPA valedictorian. I was supposed to know better. And I killed the town's best chance of fame. I killed the only man I have ever really loved." She was crying now. Talking about this brought up all the old memories and pain.

"Grace." All he said was her name as he pulled her into his embrace. "Is that why you were so afraid tonight? You thought that I was hurt because of you? Never, ever believe that. It wasn't your fault. That guy was seriously messed up. It was not your fault. If it hadn't been you, he would have found another way to get at Jane."

He stopped talking then, holding her and just letting her cry. No wonder she was so afraid to be close to him. She was afraid she was going to hurt him. She was sobbing now. It was like she hadn't cried in years and it was killing him. He wanted to be able to take away all of her pain, make her life better. He held her until her crying stopped and she pulled back slowly.

"I'm sorry," she said, slightly embarrassed at the scene she had made.

"Don't ever apologize for being you. You are kind and trusting and the sweetest woman I have ever met. I don't care if you made a mistake when you were just a kid. That was then, this is now. All I know is that I love you and nothing bad will ever happen to you or me. I won't let it."

She didn't say how ridiculous that sounded. There was no way he could guarantee that nothing bad would ever happen, but the sentiment was nice. She just nodded her head and rested it against his chest. She could get used to this, being held by him. He had a strong but gentle touch, much like a giant teddy bear. She closed her eyes and was drifting off when his voice reached her ears once more.

"Grace, I would love to stay like this all night, but I need to lie down. If I don't I'm probably going to wake up with a backache and that's the last thing I need."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. You're probably still in a lot of pain. Did you need help getting to your bedroom or anything?" She felt silly that she had forgotten the whole reason they had even come this point—his head injury.

"No, I'll just sleep on the couch. Why don't you sleep in the bed room? You shouldn't have to drive home tonight. Tomorrow, we can both call into work and just spend the day recovering. I'm sure Lisbon won't mind."

She nodded and got up. He lay down slowly on the pillow that she placed under his head. "Do you need a blanket of something? I'm sure sleeping in your clothes can't be that comfortable."

"Extra blankets are in the hall closet. I don't mind sleeping in my clothes. It's going to be easier than having to get undressed." He was already closing his eyes and Van Pelt didn't want to keep him up more than needed. He needed his rest. She got the extra blanket out of the cupboard in the hall and when she returned to the living room she could hear him faintly snoring.

"Good night, Wayne." She whispered as she laid the blanket over him. She kissed him gently on the head. "I love you."


End file.
